Land of Paradise
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: England and America's vacation plans don't go as planned.  For day 3 of the Sweethearts Week at usxuk. Prompt was: Fic or art featuring America and England in another country but their own, or experiencing cultural aspects of another nation.  one-shot


Vacations at exotic beach resorts usually meant relaxation and being pampered and enjoying the satisfaction of having no work. Possibly with the one you love while soaking up rays on the sun bleached beaches. Yes, that was well and dandy for commercials and possibly for the few lucky humans that actually did get those perfect vacations.

But for countries, to even get any time off was near impossible. England was privileged enough to even get his "birthday" off, though he never revealed when his true birth was. That was long ago when Rome was still alive and France had yet to bother with the boy across the Channel.

So when England realized that he was sitting on the warm beach of Seychelles, he realized that the only way he had arrived there was because he had been dragged. Of course he had been. How could he forget the twelve hour flight where he endured America singing horribly to whatever came on his iPod? Or the stressful car ride where he had been shoved into the backseat and America sped off; acting like his was on some mission? Then there was that mysterious phone call he had received from his boss warning him that America was on his way.

Seychelles wasn't very welcoming to England when she first saw him, but was hospitable nonetheless. She showed them to their white French-inspired merged with African style hotel. All the guests stayed in their own little small buildings that faced towards the ocean, a short five minute walk away. The citizens were more than happy to accommodate the two to a wonderful vacation.

America stripped down to just a pair of red swim trunks, begging England to do the same. England, however, hadn't been properly prepared. His luggage had been haphazardly packed by America who seemed to have forgotten to put in anything for swimming. He settled on a blue tank top and tan cargo pants.

When America saw England put on sandals, he pumped his fist into the air. "Now it's officially a vacation!"

Two hours later and England had been struck that, yes, it really was a vacation. He had been keeping an eye on America as he played volleyball with Seychelles and a few of her citizens. The girls were ogling him, finding an excuse to have the man pay them some attention. He was always so cheerfully happy to do so.

Seychelles caught England staring every so often from his spot under the beach umbrella. She threw a beach ball his way, snapping him from his reserve.

"Instead of staring, join us you stupid." Somehow she managed to give a smile while making it look like she was frowning at the same time.

England sighed, resigning himself to perhaps stretching his muscles some. He _had_ just gotten off a long plane ride. He tossed the ball back to the brunette girl, joining America by his side.

"Hey!" America exclaimed upon seeing his partner arrive. "You're playing now too? Awesome!"

England grumbled, "This isn't awesome."

Five minutes into the game, England knew he was right. It had turned worse. Especially since America changed sides and declared the game a competition. For that, England tried to step it up a notch, only to fall on his face, tripping in the sand.

"Just like old times, eh?" America laughed as England got up.

England spat out the sand and looked for the ball. His team mates, unhappy with his performance, or lack thereof, all told him to get the ball. He did as he was told, but found that it was further than he thought. Soft padding of someone behind him made him look over his shoulder.

"You're taking too long!" America exclaimed. He ran past England and snatched the ball. "Catch me if you can!"

Normally, England would have stared and thought he was blessed to have such an adorable laughing dork like America be his lover, but considering the foul mood he was in, even that shinning smile didn't melt his cold anger. He chased America, shouting his usual insults. Seychelles and her citizens watched, slightly amused at the spectacle.

The couple went further and further down the beach. England had many times where he almost reached the ball only to have America pull back with his raucous laugh. The American was a lot faster and evasive than England, easily pulling out ahead of him with England struggling to keep up.

Suddenly an intense pain shot up the backside of England's thigh. He stumbled in the sand as his hands grasped at the skin. He cried out, hitting his shoulder hard into the sand.

America looked back and stopped. "England?"

He turned and ran back towards his fallen partner. He called for Seychelles who had been watching. England was in a fetal position as he held the back of his thigh.

"Oh shit, I think you pulled a charley horse," America mused.

"A what?" England asked through gritted teeth.

"Uh…what was it? Canada says it sometimes. Oh! A granddaddy! Or was it a chopper…?" America tapped his chin, thinking aloud.

Seychelles ran up holding a water bottle. "What happened? Did he fall?"

"He pulled a charley horse," America replied. "I gotta get him back to the hotel. Here, England, drink some of this water. You might be dehydrated."

Seychelles offered the island nation her water bottle. He took it and gulped it down. America picked England up under his legs, prompting the man to spit out the water in surprise. As usual, he struggled to be put down, but when he put up a fight that usually meant his legs kicked out. The sudden movement sent his leg into a spasm. He clamped his mouth shut so hard he thought that perhaps a molar had cracked in the back.

"Calm down. I've gotta get you back to the hotel," America said. He had taken on the serious tone where his voice dropped and his eyes were darker.

England remained still the remainder of the trek back to the hotel. Seychelles trailed behind America, trying to seem impassive, but would push the water bottle into England's face every so often. She told America where the hospital was in case they needed to make an emergency trip, but America reassured her he would massage England's leg out and that everything would be fine.

"I've trained and stretched with my athletes. I know what to do." America gave one last confident smile to Seychelles before ducking into the hotel.

Once inside, America placed England on their king-sized bed that they shared. Seychelles was repulsed at first, but declared she would overlook it as she quickly took her leave. England hissed as America turned him so he was on his side.

"You have to keep your leg bent, okay?" America started. "I'm gonna massage it and lightly stretch it. Nothing strenuous, all right?"

America's large hands rested on England's thigh and the man jolted. America glanced up at him, fearful he had somehow hurt him, but England's face was steadily getting redder. America smirked and started to gently kneed his fingers into the tight muscle. England tensed even more, but listened as America told him to breath, relax, and flex his toes.

America mumbled something about stretching and drinking enough fluids, but England didn't listen. The side of his face was pressed into the pillow. He was so hot, he worried he might faint.

"Of all the places…," England grumbled, referring to his thigh.

"I don't mind," America said far too casually. He wasn't referring to England's thigh; just the fact they were on vacation and England had gone and hurt himself.

England blushed more, closing his eyes to not see America's stern face. He tried to focus on the sound of the waves outside or the warm summer breeze on his face and not America's fingers sliding up and down the backside of his leg. And it was at that moment that England felt truly pathetic.

"This vacation is terrible…"

"I don't think so," America said. Again, it was with that same carefree tone.

England scrunched up his face to not image that look America undoubtedly had on his face. The one were his eyes were wide and his expression was pure obliviousness to the real atmosphere. America must have thought England was in pain for his pressure eased up a bit.

"You could have come with someone else…," England said mainly to the pillow.

But America had heard him. He leaned over close to England. "I didn't want to."

"Why…? I'm just a stodgy old man…"

America stopped. England cracked open his eyes to see a frown on the younger boy's face.

"Hey now, only I can call you that," America started. "And I don't think it all the time. I mean, you certainly aren't when we have sex three times a night or when you're kicking Francis' ass."

England blushed at the sex comment and looked away. "I couldn't even keep up with you. How can you enjoy yourself when you have such a lame partner?"

America frowned even more and then smacked England on his bruised thigh. When the man yelped, America shot him a glare. "Where the hell did you get such a low self-esteem all of a sudden? I know everyone can't be as awesome as me, but this is a vacation, England, and I want you here with me. If you weren't, it wouldn't be a vacation at all. I wouldn't have nearly as much fun."

England's breath hitched as he looked up at America, searching for his sincerity. He then felt America's hand still resting on his thigh. It moved slowly down, resting on his butt. A light blush spread to America's cheeks as he reached down in between England's legs and groped him. The man let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

He felt America lean closer, his breath heating up his already flushed face. "There's no one I would rather be with…because I love you…"

England licked his lips, starting to spread his legs. America put a firm hand on them to stop him. The older nation opened his eyes to stare at him, puzzled, but America shook his head. "We shouldn't risk anything with your leg. I'll just do this."

Warm and large hands dipped down into England's cargo pants. America lit up, delighted to see England had no underwear on. The older man mumbled it wouldn't be good if he was suddenly dipped into the ocean by a certain American. The boy chuckled, grabbing onto his hardening penis and stroking slowly. England shuddered against him, closing his eyes and biting his lip. America whispered for him to relax, peppering his neck with butterfly kisses. How could he relax to that?

England's shaky hands snaked their way down into America's swim trunks and took hold of the larger man's already hard length. He palmed it and then fingered the top. America let out a moan meaning England was free to do so as well without feeling too embarrassed. The sound of the ocean just outside was muddled by the moans and pants from the two men.

"A…Alfred…," England whispered.

America smiled and kissed England open mouthed on the lips. The man returned it with equal passion. He pulled one hand out, entwining his fingers in the blonde hair. They broke apart, desperate for air as their speed increased.

"Why won't…you…lie on me…?" England breathed.

America shook his head, licking up along England's artery. "If I did, I'd just take you."

England moaned, grabbing harder and tugging a bit. America yelped and returned the feeling. The men looked at one another in the eyes. America enjoyed watching how England would roll his eyes back into his head, close his eyes, and arch his head back. It provoked him to practically start grinding into England's hand.

"Arthur…"

England opened his eyes, watching as America tasted all of his sweat soaked body. He could feel his climax coming, so he whispered the boy's human name. He reached for him, hoping to have him kiss him as he came. A quick warning was given, but America didn't pull away. He held fast as England came all over his hand, not bothered that he had stopped in his ministrations.

England went lax for a moment and then America pulled away. "Wait… You're not finished."

America had begun scooting to the edge of the bed when he stopped. He smiled at England, brushing the hair that stuck to his face out of the way. He leaned over, giving a short chaste kiss. "You can finish me off tonight. For now, we need to get you up and walking. Get some blood back in that leg. Now that it's no longer down in your crotch, it can return to the rest of your body."

England bolted up and smacked America on the arm. The boy barked out a laugh before he skirted off to the bathroom to get a towel. England lay back down, grumbling to himself before realizing that his leg did feel better. He stretched it out, smiling to find relief in that it didn't hurt.

"America, it's all better," England called. The boy popped his head out. "See?"

America didn't look convinced. He handed England the towel to wipe himself off. "I don't know… We should still walk around. I mean, we are on vacation. Let's head into Victoria and see the sights, okay?"

England tossed the towel aside and smiled with a nod. "That sounds lovely."

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_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Here's day three! This one was actually tossed around like 50 times as to what would happen. I knew I wanted England in a compromised situation and America had to do something. The smut came to me while writing and I just kept going with it. (I honestly have no idea if sex actually makes a charley horse go away. I don't think it does, but he is a country and they probably heal faster. Orz)

As a side note: I feel that when countries call each other by their human names, it's a sign of intimacy.


End file.
